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Storming the Gates

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[X] "I am a mercenary here to sell his services!"

The quest will be short regardless, I just want to know how this is gonna go down!
 
[X] "I am a mercenary here to sell his services!"

This is absurd and beautiful and dang flabbit I love this old man more than Harzivan.
 
What better way to test the mettle of your new mercenary captain is there than to duel him yourself?
 
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Struggle for Employment
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    • Explain yourself mortals the god before them stated without actually saying anything.

    "Wyr, Lord of the Underworld, I Kirl, Son of Yolim, do challenge you to Hemting!" Kirl announced with a shout, slamming the butt of his sword into his shield.

    Kirl could feel Wyr blink in unconcerned surprise despite being unable to see his eyes, and after a moment the god replied You dare challenge me?

    "I do dare!" Kirl announced. "I dare on the fact that I am here! In all the stories of the gods I have ever been told, two things always stuck out at me: fate, and strength. The way I figure it, either I'm fated to be here and make this challenge so I'm only doing what I'm supposed to; or I'm strong enough to get here on my own merits and thus I can challenge anyone face-to-face, which by being here means you too!"

    State your Issue.

    "Mostly I just want to fight you, but my Issue is that I am mercenary. I sell my sword, and I only fight for free if someone else starts it, or if someone has earned my service with deeds worth more than mere gold. I figure if I'm going to find an honourable death and then fight under your banner until the End of Days, I should at least sell my titles of 'Undefeated' and 'Indestructible' to the one I'm going to be fighting for," Kirl stated.

    And should I refuse your challenge?

    Lifting his sword to his throat and tapping it against the maille there, Kirl replied, "Well then, as the arbiter of honour refusing my challenge, I guess an honourable death is not all it's cracked up to be. I hear the Lady of Death is always hiring and she should have some of my relatives in her thrall."

    Wyr seemed to consider this for a time before he replied My shields are flesh and spirit. Break three of my Zwerjy, one by one, and you will confirm your strength to face me naked of their protection. You may have as many shields and weapons as you require.

    Lowering his sword and sheathing it, Kirl nodded and said, "Deal. It is Hemting then."

    I require no second, but I name Skae, Kol, and Junym as my shields. Name your second.

    "My lieutenant Sorn," Kirl replied without hesitation.

    Behind him, all of his companions but Sorn collapsed into dust at the completion of his statement, and at their shock one of the three Zwerjy stepping forward out of the ranks surrounding them said reassuringly and yet also threateningly, "You'll see them again at midnight."

    Frowning at Wyr, Kirl said, "You could have at least let them watch! Or waited until after!"

    The Lord of the Dead gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

    Frowning deeply as he and Sorn paced out the area of the duel, one of the Zwerjy standing between Wyr and him while the other two waited on the sidelines, and the assembled warriors, spirits, and harpies all watched starting a pace back from the ring. Once satisfied, Kirl walked to the centre of the ring, fresh spear with his banner attached to it and fresh shield in hand, and he got up as close to Wyr as the Zwerjy would let him, as if the dead man really were a shield. Glaring upward, both Kirl and Wyr nodded before stepping back five paces each. The Zwerjy was grinning, while Kirl's face was neutral in thought.

    Taking his sword off his back, the two handed warrior proclaimed, "You fight well old man, I shall seek you out in the morning tomorrow, and again in the halls for ale and wine the night after."

    Kirl nodded and said, "I'll buy everyone a round with my first payment for services."

    Laughing at Kirl's confidence, the warrior moved forward. Unbound by the restrictions of life on strength and having trained every day without fear of death, he was certainly in his element in a one on one duel rather than a mass formation where the Zwerjy were more likely to interfere with each other. With a single skip forward the distance between the two of them was closed, a thrust bouncing off Kirl's shield before looping around shockingly fast into an overhead blow that transformed at the last instant into a straight thrust of the hilt towards Kirl's face. It was fast and brutal with the sort of easy confidence that all of these moves would come together in harmony, and the warrior doing so was definitely correct in his assessment that he could pull it all off even as Kirl was responding in his own way.

    The dagger Kirl had quietly dropped on the ground during it all did however provide a slight complication to it all, especially since the Zwerjy closed too quickly so as to best leverage his strength to have any chance of seeing it through Kirl's shield. As it was, he only had enough time to realize that he had tripped before the boss of Kirl's shield slammed into the man's face, followed an instant later by the old warrior's spear sliding across his neck as Kirl backed up. While the dead man recovered from his trip with surprising quickness, ethereal blood was still spurting out of the wound at an alarming rate, and Kirl was now pressing forward with spear and shield. His foe managed to swat aside several thrusts before the mortal wound caught up with him enough that Kirl finished him with a thrust to the skull.

    The body faded away in an instant as the second Zwerjy jumped forward to take the place of the first and said with mocking scolding, "Naughty, naughty there."

    "I don't see what you're talking about," Kirl replied with a grin as he kicked the stray dagger out of the way. That trick would only work once.

    Sending his sword flashing through a complex series of looping defences, the man brought it up into a high guard and said, "Well, old man, it appears that we're not going to be able to do this quickly."

    "Probably not," Kirl agreed. This man was not going to be a fun fight, he could tell. He was confident in his abilities, but he wasn't going to leave any openings by trying to do this fast. Seeing that he was not going to press the attack, Kirl launched a probing strike only for his opponent to shatter his spear with a brutal chop of his two handed sword. Backing up quickly as he drew his sword, Kirl had to fend off another blow that cracked the edge of his shield and nearly ripped it out of his hands. While he managed to knock a follow up thrust out of the way with sword and shield, it was obvious how this was going to play out. The objective was to break his weapons, to take him apart piece by piece at range and let the fact that the Zwerjy would not tire while Kirl would start lagging soon enough win the day.

    'Soon enough' came after only three more such exchanges, Kirl's second shield - tossed to him by Sorn after a desperate scramble to get enough distance - already a splintered wrecked. The brutal black two handed sword wielded by Kirl's opponent on the other hand showed no signs of damage, nor its wielder of tiring, while Kirl was definitely showing signs of having difficulty keeping his arms up properly.

    Fortunately for Kirl, his opponent was too skilled to believe that Kirl was truly that tired yet. A dumber man might have done something bold that would have felled him in a single blow. As it was though, the probing, distance strikes intended to wear Kirl down allowed him to impale his damaged shield upon his opponent's blade, dropping his sword so that he could twist the shield with both hands and wrench his opponent's weapon out of his hands. Following up with a savage headbutt to the jaw, Kirl unfortunately did not manage to avoid taking the fight to a grapple on the ground, where he knew he was at a complete disadvantage. He landed on top at first, but the enemy warrior was simply fast and strong enough to immediately reverse the position. The scramble of a grapple was always almost comical from a distance, but in the moment even as Kirl sunk teeth into spectral flesh he knew that he was probably going to have his head crushed.

    Then Sorn, ever the dutiful lieutenant and second, kicked the dagger Kirl had used as a distraction before back to his hand. After planting it firmly in the Zwerjy's head, Kirl twisted it hard enough to snap the blade off in his skull.

    He was somewhat glad that the spirit warriors broke apart when slain for the day because it probably would have been embarrassing getting the body off of him. As it was Kirl found a hand offered to help him up from his last opponent before he could fight with Wyr. While the thought of trying to take advantage of the situation flashed through his mind, he decided against it and let his foe haul him to his feet.

    Stepping back respectfully before taking his sword out of the ground where he had planted it, the man asked, "Do you need a moment?"

    "Not in a battle," Kirl replied even as he took a moment to catch his breath and have Sorn toss him a pair of bearded axes.

    Leaning jauntily on his sword as Kirl gave both weapons an experimental twirl to orient their weight and balance in his hands, his foe asked, "Curious that you would sacrifice so much reach and protection."

    "Got my reasons," the white haired warrior told the semi-translucent one.

    "Can't wait to see them," the dead man replied, just as Kirl exploded into motion.

    For the first time in the duel it was Kirl on the offensive, attempting to batter away his opponent's sword with one axe while striking with the other, but the range difference in the weapons was made painfully obvious as the Zwerjy could simply dance away with little problem while still being able to threaten Kirl with his blade. After a time, both seemed to tire of the play, and the dead warrior asked the elderly one, "Are you quite done?"

    Nodding as he panted to catch his breath after his explosive exertion, Kirl admitted, "Frankly, I was out of ideas. Can't really use the same trick twice on fighters like you."

    There was a flicker of a heartbeat as the warrior let his eyes dance across the battlefield, catching sight of the sword Kirl had dropped fighting the last Zwerjy. To his credit, the man blocked the axe thrown at him since it was a very awkward snap throw to minimize the movement of the toss for maximum surprise. Also, the axe wasn't balanced at all for throwing.

    As such, when the second axe embedded itself in his skull, the Zwerjy had to comment, cross-eyed, "You've practised that."

    Kirl nodded as he went to pick up his sword and said, "Getting your limbs to do two different things like that takes a whole lot of effort."

    Well then Wyr noted impassively.

    "Well then indeed," Kirl replied as he took a fresh sword and shield from Sorn.

    The god inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. Then, he simple was in front of Kirl with a single arm extended from beneath his black eagle feather cloak, his hand balled into a fist, and Kirl was tumbling away, his shield shattered along with many of the bones in the left side of his body. Before he could get up, a foot was upon his sternum and driving him into the ground, not quite crushing him outright, but pinning him painfully in place. Still intact bones creaked against the shards of broken ones, and Kirl screamed involuntarily in pain, every individual nerve in his body feeling like a red hot poker had been shoved into it.

    Wyr leaned down over Kirl, eagle skull helm leering at him, even as he silently judged him. The change in posture also brought an increase in pressure, although the god avoided crushing Kirl like a bug outright.

    Kirl swung the sword he had still somehow managed to hold onto into Wyr's head. He was rewarded with an explosion of steel sparks as the weapon shattered against the helm without so much as scratching it. Kirl swung a punch and broke bones in his hand. Sorn tossed him as many weapons as he could, but they all bounced off uselessly or broke against every point that Kirl aimed them at.

    Yield Wyr ordered.

    Kirl spat upwards, but the spit only landed in his own face. Wrinkly face going as white as his hair as he bled out internally, Kirl smiled and said through gasping breath as he died, "I... I wouldn't... be... be here... if... I... I could..."

    Wyr tilted his head like a bird of prey regarding a most curious mouse within its talons.

    "Death... doom... you... you're it. I... I... I fought... fought with... against... you... all... all my... all my life. Can't... can't... give up... now..." Kirl stated with a blood foam flecked smile as he felt the death that had been perched upon his shoulder his whole life come down to nest in his heart and peck the light from his eyes. He tried to lift his right arm one last time, but for the first time in his life his strength failed him. It was a distinctly novel experience. He didn't like it and was glad this would also be the last time he ever had to feel it.

    Wyr leaned down close enough for Kirl to think that he saw golden eyes behind the sculpted metal helmet. A surprisingly neutral breath, like a lukewarm wind over sterile grave sand, blew in Kirl's face, and he thought for a second that he heard something being said rather than simply knowing it, but everything had faded in volume so it was hard to tell exactly. He felt almost dreamy then, all the pain and pressure of the world removed, like he didn't have a god stepping on him.

    Then something stabbed him in the chest.

    Pick one...
    [] Fire
    [] Ice
    [] Light
    [] Dark
    [] Earth
    [] Sky
    [] Tree
    [] Grave
     
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    • [X] Tree

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    [X] Grave
    Absolutely Badass. Shame about our followers though. Could have had their defeat by the sword but nooo, dust it is *grumble grumble*
     
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